


Touchdown

by Magnolia8727



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:02:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia8727/pseuds/Magnolia8727
Summary: David loves the fall.  Snuggling into his favorite sweaters against the crisp morning air.  The warm sunlight slanting though the windows of the store in the afternoon.  Hot chocolate in the evenings.However, he wasn’t thrilled with Patrick’s new addition to this fall.Patrick started a fantasy (American) football league, which was turning fall into spreadsheets and statistics and a whole new roster of names and sports terms.   Not to mention spending Sundays watching football, when there were many, many more fun things they could be doing on their day off.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 45
Kudos: 91
Collections: Schitt’s Creek Sports Fest





	Touchdown

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSportsFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSportsFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> These sports have massive national and global reach, with huge followings and major airtime across television networks as well as companies clamoring for spokespeople from these sports: Football(Soccer), Cricket, Rugby, Boxing, Hockey (ice and field), MotorSports, Baseball, Tennis, Basketball, American Football. 
> 
> Your submission for this prompt can be fully in an Alternate Universe, just canon divergent or fully canon compliant. For example:
> 
> _That time Alexis had to win a Formula 1 race to escape a drug cartel?_
> 
> _Patrick Brewer, pro-hockey star?_
> 
> _Ronnie Lee's athletic park restored for intramural tennis games?_
> 
> _The continued war between Cafe Tropical and Bob's Garage?_
> 
> _Meet Cute at a Toronto Raptors game? ___
> 
> _  
> _The world is your oyster.__  
> 

### MONDAY

David loves the fall. Snuggling into his favorite sweaters against the crisp morning air. The warm sunlight slanting though the windows of the store in the afternoon. Hot chocolate in the evenings. 

However, he wasn’t thrilled with Patrick’s new addition to this fall.

Patrick started a fantasy (American) football league, which was turning fall into spreadsheets and statistics and a whole new roster of names and sports terms. Not to mention spending Sundays watching football, when there were many, many more fun things they could be doing on their day off.

David walked into Café Tropical on Monday morning to pick up his coffee and a tea for Patrick on his way to the store. As he stood at the counter, waiting for Twyla to finish the drinks, he overheard Bob and Ray arguing over “yardage gains” and “injured reserve”. He groaned out loud.

“What’s wrong,” Twyla asked?

“Yardage gains, that’s what’s wrong,” David replied.

“Ooh- tough weekend for your team?”

“What team?”

“Your fantasy football team.” 

“I don’t have a fantasy football team,” he stated, gesturing widely to emphasize his point. 

Twyla cocks her head to the side and looks at him strangely, and hands him his drinks. “Really? You aren’t ‘Roses to Rumble’? Is your dad playing?”

David, slightly flustered, pirouettes and heads out the door.

David gets halfway across the street when it hits him. Patrick probably set up a team for him, because of course he did. Patrick probably even gave him the best players, because that’s what Patrick does.

He feels a flicker of annoyance. Fantasy football is definitely off-brand for him. And now people might expect him to talk about football. Ugh.

David walks into the store, ready to ask Patrick about it, but Patrick is already helping a customer, so David leaves his tea under the counter and heads into the stockroom. He logs into the laptop and the first thing that comes up is a spreadsheet. Normally, he would instantly minimize the spreadsheet, but instead he takes the time to examine it. David quickly determines that the spreadsheet is not work related. He pauses for a second and takes a deep breath before deciding to look again. It’s not snooping if it’s open on the shared work laptop, right?

Across the top are headers (David has learned something about spreadsheets from Patrick) with titles like Pick Number, Player, Position, Avg FP/Yr- whatever that is, Consistency, and oh god, there are a bunch of tabs across the bottom, too. It’s like reading Greek to David. 

David hears the bell on the door, which probably means the customer left, so he minimizes the spreadsheet and quickly pulls up email in case Patrick comes in, feeling slightly guilty at reading Patrick’s spreadsheet.

**********

Patrick is excited to close up and get home for Monday night football. He was never really into American football before, not the way he watched baseball, or even hockey, but last fall one of his cousins, who had married an American woman and moved down to the states, set up a family league. It ended up being a great way to keep in touch with the family, with plenty of trash talk on the group text, but also lots of sharing updates and family pictures. And, honestly, the data analysis was really fun. Patrick was far from an expert, but he enjoyed watching the games and rooting for his fantasy players and he won $20 when he came in third place. 

This fall, Patrick decided to host a local league and a surprising number of people signed up. The usual suspects registered: Ray, who would join almost anything, Bob, Roland, and several members of the Café Tropical baseball team, but also Jake, Jocelyn and Twyla. Ronnie even agreed to play, claiming it was just to kick Patrick’s butt. Patrick asked David if he wanted to play, too, but predictably, David said no. Actually, David said he’d “rather cut off the arms of my sweater and wear it as a tank top”, but Patrick understood that to mean “no.”

Patrick decided to start a team for David anyway. He knew David’s competitive streak sometimes got the best of him, and Patrick could see David wanting in on the action mid-season. 

Roses to Rumble was doing well in the league. (Patrick knew David would probably hate the name- he could pick a new one, if he decided to play. Patrick had also considered the Givenchy Gremlins for David’s team, but was afraid David would find that sacrilegious.) Better than the Bad News Brewers, despite the time Patrick spent updating his roster each week. 

“Hey David, do you want to close the register or clean tonight?”

“Um. Clean?”

Patrick looked up quizzically. “Are you okay? You never want to clean?”

“I do tonight?” David said, his voice rising at the end. Patrick knew that rise- something was bothering David. 

Patrick thought about pushing the issue and getting David to talk, but he really wanted to get home. He planned to make his Mom’s mac and cheese, one of David’s favorite dinners, to soften the blow of the football game. And then he actually wanted to watch the game, since one of his wide receivers was playing tonight, and if he did well, Patrick might be able to beat Jocelyn this week. Jocelyn, who claimed to pick her roster based on which team uniforms she liked best. Patrick was a little frustrated, fine, a lot, frustrated, to be losing to someone who wasn’t even trying to win.

“Okay,” Patrick replied. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

The two men finished their closing chores and headed home in the October twilight. It was getting dark earlier these days, but Patrick didn’t mind. He liked getting home and getting cozy on the couch with David and just being home with his husband. Reading books, watching TV, drinking hot cocoa and then kissing the hint of chocolate off David’s lips. Patrick knew it was cheezy, but he loved it.

**********

David was not disappointed when Patrick shooed him from the kitchen to make dinner. David went upstairs to take a shower and change into something comfortable for the evening. Patrick said dinner would take a while, so David took the opportunity to put on a face mask and read the new issue of Elle that had just arrived, while stewing over the fantasy football revelations of the morning.

David could come up with several benign reasons that Patrick had made a team under David’s name. Maybe it was like that time they needed an extra player on the Café Tropical softball team- maybe they just needed an extra team for optimal fantasy football play. Maybe Patrick made his team as a test, and forgot to delete it. Maybe Patrick thought that having a fantasy football team was somehow marketing the store- like the open mic night or sponsoring a little league team. David would have to talk with Patrick about branding, again, if that were the case.

But as he flipped through the pages of designer coats and holiday formal wear, his imagination got the better of him. If there was a good reason for setting up a team under David’s name (and Roses to Rumble, really?), why wouldn’t Patrick have mentioned it? What was Patrick planning? 

The smell of buttery noodles interrupted David’s thoughts, before they could spiral into a dark place. He shook his head to shake off the negative thoughts and padded downstairs to see how dinner was coming along.

“Oooh- mac and cheese? What’s the occasion?” David asked.

“Just thought it would be nice, since it’s getting chilly out.” Patrick replied, with a slight smile. 

David lifted one eyebrow. 

“Fine, I was hoping you would watch Monday Night Football with me.” Patrick said. 

David rolled his eyes. “Only for you, would I be caught dead watching a sportsball game.” 

Patrick grinned. “Well good thing you married me, and not someone else, then.”

They took their dinner to the living room and Patrick tuned into the game. As soon as Patrick put his bowl down, David swung his feet up into Patrick’s lap, hoping Patrick would rub them while watching the game, but Patrick was clearly distracted by something on the screen.

David sighed and started to scroll through his phone. After a few minutes, and not finding anything interesting, he decided to research fantasy football. The aesthetics of the websites could really be improved- why did everything with sports have to be so garish and primary colored? The articles on drafts and rankings and trading players made his eyes glaze over and all the initials- QB and WR and PPR- gave him a headache. He put his phone down and went back to his magazine.

David felt Patrick balance the laptop on David’s legs, which were still laying across Patrick’s lap. David looked up from his magazine, observing the look of deep concentration on Patrick’s face. It was evident that Patrick was really into this. David loved watching Patrick when he was concentrating- the slight furrow of his forehead, the set of his jaw, the unyielding focus on his task. The way his eyes flicked from the TV to the spreadsheet and back. It was shockingly hot. 

David shifted and Patrick lifted the laptop off his legs without looking away from the TV. David swung his legs down so he could sit up and scoot closer to Patrick on the couch. Patrick was either purposely ignoring David or was truly engrossed with the game. Either way, David took it as a challenge. 

David started softly kissing Patrick’s neck and was rewarded with a flicker of his eyes. Ok, David was up for *this* game. He slipped his hand over Patrick’s chest and started to unbutton his shirt, working his hand inside to touch his husband’s chest. That elicited a hum of approval from Patrick.

David kept going, teasing Patrick incessantly, until he finally set the laptop aside and pounced on David. David smiled into a very good kiss, glad to finally have his husband’s full attention. 

**********

Patrick was immersed in the game when he felt David snuggle up beside him and start to suck at *that* spot on his neck. The game was good, but David was definitely better.

He intentionally kept watching the game, to see what David’s next move would be. David started to unbutton his shirt- excellent progress. A hum of pleasure slipped out of Patrick, but he decided to keep his eyes on the game to see what David would try next. Patrick was not displeased to find his husband teasing his nipples and slowly untucking his shirt from his pants. Patrick gave up the game at halftime, and turned to tackle David back on to the couch, kissing him deeply. 

His fantasy team might be losing badly, but Patrick could, ehm, score a touchdown during halftime.

David was not displeased with how Monday Night Football was going. Well, he didn’t really know how the game was going, but he quite enjoyed what Patrick was euphemistically referring to as a touchdown. 

**********

### TUESDAY

Patrick woke up early and sat in the kitchen, checking the football stats and updating his spreadsheet. Somehow, he was falling to last place, and Patrick hated to lose. He ran his hand through his hair and stared at the spreadsheets, hoping the right line up for this week would miraculously appear. He could feel his shoulders tighten as he moved names around, hoping to find the key player that would move him out of last place. 

Even more frustrating was the fact that David’s team was in third place, after Roland and Ted. Patrick all but randomly updated David’s team, and it was in contention to place in the league. 

Patrick went back to the stats and spreadsheet, looking for the magic combination of numbers that would pull him out of last place. It was bad enough to lose, but to lose to Jocelyn’s fashion strategy and to Ronnie, well, that couldn’t happen. He was going to have to do more research on the unclaimed players and see if he could fill in some holes. Or negotiate some trades. Or something.

He was still lost in the numbers when he felt David slip his hands over his shoulders. Patrick automatically tilted his head up for a kiss and was quickly rewarded. 

“What have we here?” David asked.

Patrick closed the laptop with more force than strictly necessary. “Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” said David, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Just updating my fantasy football team, since I didn’t finish it last night.”

“Does our touchdown count for points?” David asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Not unless you want me to explain our new scoring system to the whole town, including Roland.”

“Ewww. No. Roland should never know about our touchdowns.” 

**********

David felt a little of that familiar anxiety flare in his stomach. He knew Patrick was upset about something from the set of his shoulders and the way he wouldn’t look David in the eye. David looked at the five rings on his fingers to remind him that Patrick was his forever, and he probably had nothing to worry about.

What was up with Patrick? Was it really just football? David stared down at the top of Patrick’s head, willing it to divulge its secrets. 

“Wanna get breakfast at the café this morning? We have enough time if we leave soon,” David asked, hoping that maybe it would be easier to get Patrick talking in their favorite booth.

“Sure,” Patrick agreed, with less enthusiasm than David would have preferred. 

Patrick quickly dressed. David still didn’t understand how someone could look as good as Patrick and spend less than 15 minutes getting ready, including his shower. 

They drove to the store and walked across the street to the café. They walked in and David quickly realized that breakfast at the café might have been a tactical error. Bob, Ray, Roland and Ronnie were all sitting at the round table in the window, loudly talking about football. David had to assume it was related to the fantasy football league, because before this fall, football had never been a topic of interest in Schitt’s Creek.

David felt Patrick stiffen when he saw the group and felt the heat rise up Patrick’s neck when Ronnie called out something about the Bad New Brewers. Patrick turned towards the group, but David grabbed his hand and pulled him to a booth.

“Sorry, but I haven’t had breakfast yet. He can come over and play after we eat,” David waved at the group.

“David-“ Patrick started.

David cut him off. “Trust me- eat something before you go talk to them.” David put his hand on the small of Patrick’s back and steered them to their usual booth.

Patrick sulked a little, but ordered eggs when Twyla arrived with their drinks. David ordered chocolate chip pancakes- if he was going to be out in public before 9am, he deserved a treat.

David looked at Patrick. “Mmkay, pretend you are explaining VAT to me again, and explain this fantasy football league that everyone is talking about. Analogies involving fashion or beauty products would be helpful.” 

“Can we talk about this later?” Patrick asked. 

“I guess,” David replied. “Why not now, though?”

“I don’t want to talk about it in front of everyone else.”

“Um, okay. But isn’t everyone else talking about fantasy football? It’s not like football is particularly private,” David wheedled. 

“I just really don’t want to talk about football right now, okay,” Patrick said with an edge in his voice. 

Twyla brought their food and they ate in silence for a few minutes, until the group at the front of the café adjourned and Ronnie stopped by their booth. 

“So, those Bad News Brewers are really bad news, huh?” Ronnie teased. David’s eyebrows raised and he puckered his mouth into an “O” in amusement.

David watched the flush creeping up Patrick’s cheeks, and quickly rearranged his face to look less amused and more sympathetic.

“Not my best week,” Patrick growled through clenched teeth. Ronnie laughed and left them to finish their breakfast.

A few puzzle pieces were starting to slot into place for David. Patrick’s team must not be doing well, and Patrick hated to fail. The red flush on his cheeks and neck might be embarrassment, rather than anger. It was dawning on David that Patrick was embarrassed that he was losing at fantasy football after the big fuss he made over starting the league. Which seemed silly, because David couldn’t care less about football, but it was obviously important to Patrick.

David thought back to that horrible day before their wedding, when he was mortified to wake up and find that he’d wet the bed in the night. Patrick had been amazingly compassionate, but even with that, David had still wanted to run away and never come back. He didn’t want Patrick feeling the same way. David needed to find a way to fix “this”, even if he didn’t exactly understand what “this” was.

**********

Patrick was stabbing at his eggs, like they were a threat. Or possibly responsible for his last place standing in the Schitt’s Creek fantasy football league. He felt like the whole town was laughing at him; Ronnie had literally just laughed at him. Here he started the fantasy league and now he was in last place. 

Logically, Patrick knew that it was just a game. And not a real game at that. But, ugh, he hated to lose. He wanted to blame his losing streak on bad luck, but he just felt incompetent. He wanted to kick something.

He paid for breakfast and walked across the street to the Apothecary with David. Patrick knew he was clenching his teeth and that the dentist would chastise him, again, but he really couldn’t help it. 

They opened the store and Patrick slipped into the back room. “I’m going to work on the vendor invoices this morning,” he told David, as he closed the curtain behind him.

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything,” David replied.

Patrick sat at the desk and flipped open the laptop. He knew he really needed to get the payments out, but instead he clicked on ESPN to review the stats from last night, again. Unfortunately, nothing changed his current standing, but he started making potential rosters for this week and looking for players that had been overlooked. 

Before he knew it, it was lunch time and he’d spent the whole morning engrossed in football and hadn’t paid a single invoice. David would probably be annoyed that Patrick would need to spend the whole afternoon in the stockroom to actually pay the invoices, leaving David alone on the floor all day. Patrick sighed.

**********

David paced laps around the store, between customers. He wished he understood more about fantasy football, if he were going to find a way to help Patrick’s team. 

Maybe he could ask Ted for help? But Ted was multiple time zones away in the Galapagos. And while David assumed Ted was the sort of guy who knew things about sports, he wasn’t actually sure that he did. 

Ronnie would see right through any questions, and know David was trying to help Patrick, so she was out. David didn’t trust Roland to give him a straight answer. Maybe Twyla? If nothing else, she might be able to help Patrick pick better players through a tarot card reading. 

There was a small mid-morning rush, which distracted David for a while. When he returned to ruminating on football, of all things, he tried a different tact. Could they do a football themed event at the store, so Patrick could be in charge of that? David groaned inside at the idea of hosting something so off brand, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Maybe he could just distract Patrick from the fact that his team was losing. Maybe they could keep their own scorecard where David could ensure that Patrick would always win. They had quite enjoyed their, ehm, touchdown last night. As a bonus, David thought that he might rather enjoy this version of sportsball. 

David was getting hungry, so he stuck his head into the back. “Do you want me to get you anything for lunch?” he asked.

“Do you think you could get Twyla to give you soup to go in a bowl? I don’t want to try and eat soup out of a bag again,” Patrick replied.

“Uncertian.”

“A tuna sandwich would be fine, then.”

“Mmkay. I’ll be back soon.”

David headed over to the café and waited at the counter for Twyla. After ordering their food, he asked “What do you know about this football thing?”

“What about it?” she asked.

“Patrick seems upset about it, and I don’t really understand it.”

“Well, my strategy has been to pick players that don’t remind me of any of my mom’s ex-boyfriends, and that’s worked out okay so far. Well, except I probably should have picked Russell Wilson, but he reminded me of my mom’s boyfriend that crashed her snow machine into fence but tried to blame it on an elk. Like an elk could steal the keys and start the engine…”

David had gotten good at keeping a straight face when confronted with the insanity of Twyla’s childhood. He sometimes wondered what Twyla would have been like in New York; her crazy experiences might have topped some of David’s worst nights.

“So, how does it work, picking players?”

“We did that at town hall back in August.”

“And that’s it, you keep the same players for all the performances?”

“Well, you can, but you can also trade players between games.”

“Hmm.” David hummed. He took the bag of food that Twyla was handing over. “Thanks,” he said on the way out the door, the outline of an idea forming in his mind.

**********

Patrick was heating up leftovers for dinner, still stewing over his fantasy football team. He had the laptop open on the kitchen counter while swapping bowls in and out of the microwave. He knew he should just set his roster and forget it, so he could focus on other things, like running a business, during the week. But he just kept playing different scenarios over and over in his mind, coming up with trades he could propose. 

Under no circumstances could he ask Ronnie for a trade. He still had some self-respect left. Jocelyn actually had a couple of good wide receivers- maybe she’d be open to something, although it might cost him a night of babysitting for Rollie Jr. He thought Ray or Jake might be open to trades and wouldn’t tease him too unmercifully. He’d have to look at their rosters again, to see if there was anyone that might help his Bad News Brewers.

Patrick was so lost in his spreadsheets that he didn’t hear David join him in the kitchen, so he jumped when he felt David’s hands on his shoulders. 

“Hi,” David said softly, dropping a soft kiss onto the back of his neck.

“Hi. Dinner’s almost ready.”

David kissed his way down Patrick’s neck, softly sucking on his shoulder, right where his sweatshirt met his skin. Patrick tried to focus on his spreadsheet, still hoping for the winning line-up to reveal itself to him, but David’s hands and mouth were making that impossible. Patrick turned to face David and slid his arms around David’s waist, pulling him close. Patrick turned his face up, and David kissed him softly. Patrick felt some of the tension in his shoulders relax, as he made out with his husband. 

“Come eat with me,” David said, pulling away just enough to look at Patrick’s face.

Patrick laughed, gave David a last peck on the lips and started moving the smattering of leftovers to the table. 

They sat down to eat, and negotiated a few trades- Patrick could have the rest of the mac and cheese if David could have the leftover dumplings from their Chinese take-out last weekend. David called dibs on the reheated brussel sprouts with maple bacon, leaving the short ribs for Patrick. After dinner, they cleaned up the kitchen and Patrick put on the water for tea.

David leaned against the counter, watching his husband get out clean mugs and prepare them with tea bags. Patrick was so efficient in the kitchen, in everything really, and David loved to watch him doing little domestic things. David never knew domesticity would be a turn-on, but here they were.

“I have a proposition,” David announced.

“Babe, you don’t have to proposition me- I’m your husband,” Patrick replied with a leering smile.

“Oh, I think you might be interested in this proposition.”

“I’m always interested in your propositions, David. But go on, I’m listening.”

“I know you made me a fantasy football team,” David started.

Patrick cut him off. “You don’t have to do anything with it, I promise. I just didn’t want you to feel left out if the football league took off.”

“Oh, I’m still very uninterested in football, unless there is a barbeque at the end.”

“I’m sorry, David. I should have…”

David gestured for Patrick to be quiet and continued “But since I have a team, I thought I should get something out of it.”

Patrick looked quizzically at David. 

“I will trade you one of my players for the sexual favor of my choice.”

Patrick stared at David, a smile slowly breaking across his face. “Did you have a specific trade in mind?”

“You can pick the player. The first one will cost you a blow job.”

Patrick stepped up to David and pulled him close by his hips, so they were touching chest to chest, stomach to stomach, hips to hips. David could already feel that Patrick was interested in the trade.

“Well then, I accept your proposition,” Patrick said, as he leaned in to kiss David.

Less than an hour later, Patrick had sore knees, a new Quarterback, and a happy husband.

**********

### WEDNESDAY

Wednesday morning was cold and overcast. David woke up to the grey sky and was pleased to find Patrick still snuggled up in bed next to him. Patrick was usually an early riser, getting up to work out or catch up on email or just spend some quiet time in the house. It was unusual for Patrick to sleep in. 

David rolled over and snuggled up behind his husband, sneaking his arm around Patrick’s waist to pull him close. Patrick grunted what David hoped was an approval, so David snuck his hand up under Patrick’s T-shirt and gently ran his fingers over Patrick’s chest to draw him into wakefulness. As Patrick slowly responded, David leaned over and caught Patrick’s earlobe between his teeth, finally teasing his husband into consciousness.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” David teased. 

“What time is it?” Patrick asked.

“Time to show your husband how much you love him?” 

Patrick twisted his head back to plant a warm kiss on the underside of David’s jaw, his tongue loving the texture of the stubble there. 

Patrick finally looked at his phone. “Nope, time to get up. We need to open in 45 minutes.”

Patrick got up and headed directly into the bathroom. David knew he’d be in and out in minutes, so instead of falling back asleep he scrolled through Instagram. The fall photo of the store, with the pumpkins out front, had a couple of hundred likes since he posted the photo on Saturday. As much as David hated social media, he figured he should probably come up with a more intentional strategy for promoting the store. 

As he kept scrolling there were new photos from Ray, featuring his newest studio backdrop that featured monster trucks. It was up there with the volcano background for tackiness, but the next photo down was one of Rollie Jr with the background. David sighed internally at the persistent lack of taste and refinement in town. 

The next photo looked to be a party spread- vegetables and dip, bowls of chips, plates of brownies cut in the shape of footballs, and cubes of cheese with toothpicks in them. David read the caption. Bob had hosted a football party last weekend, and from the looks of the comments, several members of the fantasy football league had attended. David thought back to the weekend. They hadn’t had any special plans, working during the day on Saturday with a movie night at home and a lazy Sunday morning followed by a few hours at the store and then Patrick watched the football while David did the laundry at night. 

David wasn’t sure if they hadn’t been invited, which made his protective streak flare up, or if they had been invited and Patrick declined. Either way, the biting trash talk in the comments got David’s hackles up. No one talked about his husband that way and got away with it. David was now on a mission to be sure Patrick won the football.

He’d happily give Patrick his whole team, if it meant Patrick would win, but David knew that Patrick wouldn’t feel like that was a real win. David had to convince Patrick that he was earning this. He thought back to their trade last night. Oh, this could be fun…

**********

The rainy weather meant foot traffic at the store was slow. Patrick boosted himself up onto the counter and David came to stand between his legs, resting his hands on Patrick’s shoulders. 

“Tell me more about the football,” David asked Patrick. 

“David, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing to you. I want to know more about it. Like how do you know who wins?”

“The person with the most points each week wins.”

“Mmkay. So how do you score points?”

“It’s based on how the players do in the real games each week.”

“So, if my player scores a touchdown,” David wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “then I get points in the fantasy roleplay?”

“Not that sort of touchdown, David, but yes, that’s generally the idea.”

“So, which players score the most points each week?”

“If I knew that David, I wouldn’t be losing the league.”

“Okay, but aren’t there some players that are pretty dependable? You know a new Julia movie will be good every time. You can depend on her.”

“Really? What about Mother’s Day?”

“Okay, fine. Almost always good. Everyone is allowed a bad day.” David leaned in and pecked Patrick on the lips. “So who is the Julia of football?”

“Well, Christian McCaffrey and Saquon Barkley are usually pretty solid. And George Kittle would be a great Tight End.”

“You think this guy has a tight end? Should I be jealous?” David teased, a little tuned on that Patrick liked this guy’s ass.

“Tight end is the name of the position, David.”

David’s eyebrows lifted, intrigued. “I don’t know that position. But I’m sure you could show me sometime…”

Patrick broke a smile. “Not that sort of position. But I’d be happy to play with your tight end sometime soon.”

The door opened to let in a soggy customer, interrupting what was becoming a very interesting line of conversation.

**********

It wasn’t much, but it gave David something to go on. He needed to figure out who had the performers that Patrick mentioned and see what he could work out. If David could get a few of the football people for his own team (David physically shuddered at that thought), he could arrange some very advantageous trades with Patrick.

David was pretty sure the list of teams was somewhere on the work laptop. When Patrick went out to pick up lunch, David headed into the back to investigate. 

He pulled up the spreadsheet and stared at it, willing the code to reveal itself. He didn’t know what he was looking at, but after a few minutes he could pick out some patterns. Really, how could Patrick spend so much time looking at these sheets?

David thought the spreadsheet meant that Jake had Saquon Barkley. That could be… awkward. Or fine. It could go either way. He wouldn’t do anything physical with Jake without discussing it with Patrick, so offering sex for football was out. Well, he might have to run out to the woodshop later in the day.

And it looked like Jocelyn had George Kittle. That would probably cost him some product, but he might be able to negotiate something there. 

But the Christian McCaffery guy. If David understood the spreadsheet (and that was a definite if), Ronnie had him. That might take some more finesse. 

David heard the bell on the door ring, and closed the laptop to head out front. Patrick was back with lunch.

“Hey. Since it’s slow today, would you mind if I ran out to Jake’s to see if I can work on getting him to sell some pieces through the store?”

“Sure. Do you think he’d consider something where we get a commission for customers that order furniture through the store?”

“That’s the sort of thing I had in mind. But if nothing else, he made some really nice wooden toys for Ted’s niece when she was born, and they might be nice for Christmas.”

“Okay. I’ve got things here. Tell Jake he should stop by for a whiskey sometime,” Patrick said with a wink.

David was very interested in that wink, but they’d have to table that for this afternoon. He headed out into the rain to rescue Patrick’s football troupe.

David shouldn’t have been worried about Jake. Well, Jake still wasn’t interested in selling furniture through the store; he was worried it would increase demand and cut into his time for other, um, activities. But on the football front, Jake didn’t even try to negotiate, although he did invite David and Patrick over for a whiskey and to watch a game on Sunday. David made some non-committal sounds in response to that; he hoped that Patrick would be too tired for “whiskey” by the time Sunday rolled around.

Feeling emboldened, David decided to swing by the Schitt’s on the way back to the store. Jocelyn should be home from school, and hopefully Roland would be at the Motel. 

Jocelyn answered the door. “David, what a nice surprise… Rollie, get away from the stove!”

“Is this a bad time?”

“Oh no, it’s never a bad time for you… Rollie, not the… Oh. Come on in, David.” Jocelyn made a beeline for the kitchen where Rollie Jr had somehow gotten tomato sauce over everything, including himself, in record time.

“David, can you give me a hand with Rollie? If you can get him into the tub, I can take care of the kitchen.”

David was horrified. Tomato sauce stained and these were designer jeans. But, this was for Patrick, so David took a deep breath and gingerly steered Rollie Jr down the hall to the bathroom, fingertips on Rollie’s shoulders.

“Can you get undressed?” David aske the preschooler. 

“Why?” Rollie Jr asked, looking defiantly at David.

“Because you are covered in tomato sauce, which is clearly incorrect,” David retorted.

Rollie Jr looked at him for a minute, and then, apparently deciding that David had a point, wiggled out of his shirt. 

“Mmkay, that’s a good start. Can you take off your pants, too?” David asked. 

“Why?”

“Because it’s uncomfortable to take a bath in your pants.”

“Why?”

“Because the cotton polyester denim you are wearing will absorb the water and get really heavy and clammy.”

Rollie considered this for a moment. “Okay.”

David turned on the bathwater while Rollie slowly pulled his elastic-waist jeans off, leaving them inside out on the floor. Well, Jocelyn could deal with that later. David picked up Rollie by the armpits and deposited him in the tub. Rollie looked up expectantly at David.

Oh. David had to actually wash the kid, too. This was more than he bargained for, but it would be worth it if he could fix the football for Patrick. He looked around, pleased to see a Rose Apothecary soap on the counter. That would do. He grabbed a washcloth from the pile on the shelf and started lathering the squirming preschooler. 

David managed to get the obvious splatters of tomato sauce off Rollie while Rollie kept up a steady stream of questions and random observations. David pulled a towel off the bar, and wrapped the boy up in it, and carried him back to the kitchen. 

“Rollie! You’re all clean!” Jocelyn exclaimed. “David, thank you. I’m sorry you had to see this. What are you doing over here anyway?”

“I’ve decided to experience this football thing to the fullest, so I wanted to see if you would trade me a player.”

“Sure. I’m barely playing. Between Rollie Jr and Rollie Sr, I have my hands full.”

“Can we trade for George?”

“Sure. What color does he wear?”

David had never felt such a kindred connection to Jocelyn. “I don’t know. A uniform?”

“Tell you what, if you can send me the trade, I’ll just log in and accept it.”

David was about to ask how to send a trade when the door opened and Roland walked in. “Dave!”

“I was just leaving,” David said as he slipped out the door.

David had one more stop to make before going back to the store. He wasn’t going to try his luck with Ronnie, but he hoped Twyla might help him “send the trade” whatever that meant.

**********

Patrick finished cleaning up dinner and went looking for his husband. He wasn’t in the living room or office, so Patrick started upstairs to their bedroom, laptop in hand. He still hadn’t locked his lineup for this week’s games and it was due before the Thursday night game kick off. Patrick didn’t like to leave it to the last minute, in case they got busy at the store.

Patrick walked into the bedroom to find David lounging on the bed, phone in hand.

“Hi,“ David said, in a voice that said he was interested in more than just conversation. 

“I need to do some work tonight, David.” Patrick lifted the laptop to illustrate.

“What sort of work?” David said, sounding way sexier than those words should have allowed.

“Well, I didn’t finish the quarterly taxes today and then I really wanted to do a little research on my football league.”

“Hmm. I can’t help with the taxes tonight, but what if I had another sportsball proposition for you?”

“David, are you trying to trade football players for sex again?”

“That’s exactly what I had I mind.”

“David, you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Oh, but I think I have something you want.”

“David, I always want you. I don’t need your football players to have sex with you, but I really do need to…”

“Oh my god. Are you deliberately being obtuse? I got you a football person and want to give it to you,” David burst out, unable to wait another second for Patrick to catch up.

“What do you mean, you got me a football player?” Patrick asked warily.

“I convinced Jake to trade me for the Sequin guy.”

“Saquon. And do I want to know what you had to trade Jake?”

“He invited us over for a whiskey and to watch a match on Sunday, but I left it open,” David said.

“And he just gave you Saquon?”

“Yes. And now I want to give him to you. Well, trade him to you.” David was in full swing by now, his arms dancing through the air as he emphasized his points.

Patrick felt his lips turn up into a smile. “You did that for me?”

“Oh, I did more than just that.”

Patrick put the laptop on the dresser and slowly started undressing. “What else did you do, David?”

“I also got you the George guy.”

Patrick slipped his jeans off and put them on the back of the chair. Under normal circumstances, that would drive David crazy, but David was so worked up that he didn’t even notice. Patrick, wearing only his boxers, sat on the end of the bed and started to rub his hands up David’s legs, massaging his calves while listening to his husband rant.

“George Kittle? Did Jake also have him?”

“No, Jocelyn had George. And I had to work for him.” David told him about Rollie and the tomato sauce.

Patrick slowly worked David’s cashmere joggers off while listening to him tell the whole story of the bath. “Let me get this straight, you left the store today and ended up giving a sticky preschooler a bath in order to get me a fantasy football player?”

“Mmm. That’s not incorrect.”

Patrick leaned forward, over David, and kissed him. Slowly at first, but becoming more insistent. David broke the kiss first. “Does that mean you like the football people?”

“I love that you wanted to get me football people. And yes, you got me some really good players.”

“Well, technically, I got myself some really good players. We still have to negotiate a trade.”

“And what did you have in mind?” Patrick asked, while working David’s sweater up over his head and off his arms.

“This seems like a pretty good start,” David replied, leaning in to kiss Patrick again, and then pulling his husband on top of him.

**********

Two hours, a shower and a snack later, David was sound asleep next to Patrick after what they were calling a touchdown with a two-point conversion. Well, Patrick added the two-point conversion trivia- David was happy to call it two touchdowns. 

Patrick sat in bed, finishing the taxes, with soft smile plastered across his face. Patrick knew that most people assumed that he took care of David, that Patrick shouldered most of the responsibility for the two of them. And sure, Patrick handled most of the finances and yard work, and typically drove if they were going somewhere together, but there was so much more to their marriage than that. 

If only other people could see this side of him, the David Rose that bathed a marina soaked preschooler just to get a fantasy football player for Patrick’s team. His sport-phobic husband had learned enough about fantasy football to trade for players to improve Patrick’s roster. Patrick knew that was David saying ‘I love you’.

**********

### MONDAY

Patrick woke up early, with a slight headache from the excessive quantiles of pizza and beer they had consumed while watching football last night. David was shockingly invested in watching the game, to see how “his” players had done, if you defined shockingly invested to mean that he actually let Patrick watch the games, instead of begging to watch a movie. 

David had managed to distract Patrick every time there was an actual touchdown, starting with kisses early in the afternoon and ending with both teams “scoring” their own “touchdown” later in the evening. While Patrick was sure his revamped fantasy team had done much better this week, David’s scoring system had made it a great weekend either way.

He rolled over and picked up the laptop he’d left on the floor beside the bed. He started entering the stats from the weekend, and watched the Bad News Brewers climb in the weekly rankings. The weekly standings wouldn’t be final until after the Monday night game, but it looked like Patrick was set up for a very solid week. 

He started nudging David awake. “Hey sleepyhead.”

He was met with a grumbling sound.

“I’ll buy you pancakes, if you get up now.”

There was another indeterminate groan from under the covers.

“I want to go see the look on Ronnie’s face when she realizes that we’ve beat her this week.”

David flipped the covers down, so his face was finally visible. “Did you win the football?”

“That’s not final until tonight, but we’re definitely beating Ronnie.”

“You mean, you’ve beat Ronnie,” David corrected.

“Oh no, we did this together. You make everything right, David,” Patrick said while leaning down to kiss his smiling husband.


End file.
